What Happened In El Paso
by TheGirlWithTheDinosaurTattoo
Summary: [A fun addition to my ongoing Winchester Ranch series. "El Paso" fits in directly after "Wayward" but works well as a stand-alone.] Grace and Serra Browning were hunters long before they met the Winchester boys. Tag along as they regale one of their adventures from their past, taking Dean and Sam along for the ride.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Grace

"That is _not_ how it happened!" I yelled, pouring another cup of coffee as I sat down on the couch next to Dean, still holding a sleeping newborn. "This is why we don't talk about it. You just make shit up as you go."

"I do not!" Serra yelled back over the coffee table at me, her own blanket-wrapped newborn grasping at the air as she did so. Glancing down at the baby, she bounced her a couple of times and immediately lowered her voice. "We don't talk about it because it _didn't happen._ "

Dean leaned back into the cushions and shook his head. "Obviously, something happened, so we're gonna need the details," he smiled, holding the bottle of beer between three of his fingers. "Aren't we Sammy?"

"Anything that gets Serra that offended that fast needs to be laid out on the table," he agreed, sitting in the rocker opposite me. "I thought we didn't have any secrets, honey?" Sammy asked Serra, mockingly sweet.

Serra pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth like she did when she was really annoyed. I smiled lightly, getting more comfortable with my newest daughter in my arms as I took a deep breath. "Well, little sister?" I asked, tilting my head. "We've got an audience. Maybe it's time we talked about El Paso."

…

"Well, gentlemen, it's been swell," I purred coyly as I reached across the poker table and gathered my winnings. "But I've got an early morning."

"One more round," the Tall Drink of Water replied, tilting back the whiskey glass and draining it. "At least give us poor fools a chance to win back what we lost."

"Sorry, handsome," I grinned. "No rest for the weary." He held my gaze for longer than he needed to and I knew without having to touch him that he wanted me.

My abilities had strengthened since losing Dad to the demon almost five years ago, but most of them were still only by touch. I could get a feel for what kind of person someone was simply by grazing their arm or shaking their hand, seeing their thoughts, memories, and desires in about three seconds or so. I, of course, used this information to my advantage and constantly took men for most of what they were carrying; drinks, cash, knives, guns, even a car once upon a time. Poker was my go-to game, usually playing long enough to get a feel for the other players and then taking each one in turn, for all they were worth.

This was a good little haul: there was at least four hundred bucks in the pot. That was enough to get Serra and me fed for the next few weeks and maybe even fill up my gas tank all the way. I glanced up at the Tall Drink once more and smiled coyly. Maybe if I hooked him, we'd be sitting pretty for a month or two.

 _A girl's gotta eat._

He stood and held the door open for me as I made my way back into the bar. I caught sight of Serra, my little sister, at the other end of the bar, hitting on the bartender shamelessly. She glanced at me and gave no recognition that she knew me, just as I knew she would until I gave her the all clear. Tall Drink followed me out into the dim light and smiled, staring down at me.

"Name's Hank," he said quietly, holding out his hand. I glanced down at his hand and hesitated. As soon as I clasped it, I would glaze over, predictably, for about three seconds as I dove into his subconscious.

I reached for his hand and shook it. A jumble of thoughts flew through my mind as I was shoved into his memories. When I had control again, I smiled up at him. "Grace," I said, surprised at myself for telling him the truth. "My name is Grace."

…

"You dated a guy named 'Hank'?" Dean asked and his eyebrows rose skeptically. "Was he a real cowboy? Did he have a horse?"

I took a deep breath and pressed my lips together. "Should we really open the discussion about ex-significant others, husband?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Dean pursed his lips and tilted his head, pretending to consider it carefully. "Poker. You were talking about poker," he said, taking the last swig of his beer.

"We were in town for the vamps, though," Serra added from across the room. "Get to the vamps. They were really tough bastards."

"We weren't in town for the vamps the second time," I argued, shaking my head. "That time we were in town to get your m—"

Serra threw the half- empty water bottle at me from across the room. "Nu-huh!" she yelled, immediately cutting me off.

Dean and Sam were silently watching the exchange and I could tell they were thoroughly confused. Sammy leaned forward, looking from me to Serra and back to me. "You were in El Paso twice?"

"Within the same seventy-two hours. I really don't know if we actually left the first time." I smiled at Serra who was glaring at me. "Oh come on, Luck," I scolded. "You can't expect to tell this story without all of the gory details coming out." She remained silent with her arms folded around the baby and her lips pressed together. I continued, "It's going to come out one way or another. You may as well have him hear about it here."

"Hear about what?" Sam asked. He glanced at Dean, "Do you know what they're talking about?"

"I haven't the slightest," he replied, leaning forward enough to put his empty beer bottle on the coffee table. "I'm getting the feeling, though, that it's gonna be about your wife, not mine, which is exciting. Serra stories are always good."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Grace

Hank and I went back to the motel room that my sister and I had been sharing to get to know each other better. Serra held down the bar, taking as many free drinks as she could get from her shameless flirtation with the bartender.

I came to find out that Hank was a journalist from Austin trying to find out more about the disappearances that had been happening around the state. No one seemed to notice the patterns about the trail of bodies, drained of blood that had been piling up around Texas. Hank had followed the local news stories to El Paso to see if he could catch wind of any more details to blow the story wide open.

"I am really hoping that it's something like a serial killer," he was saying, toying with the ends of my hair. "We haven't had a good serial killer story in years. Imagine what it would do for the press."

I made a face, "You don't think it's just what the news says it is? The whole rabid animal thing?"

"Not even a little bit," Hank replied, staring at me. His eyes were hazel and his jaw line was sharp enough to cut glass. I was more attracted to Hank than I had been to anyone in awhile. "Besides," he said, kissing my neck, "if it's a rabid animal, I've got no story and I might as well go home."

Curving towards his face, I closed my eyes and sighed. Hank was doing everything right…he hadn't broken physical contact with me in about two hours and I was able to actually enjoy myself. I tried to come up with a lie, something innocent to keep him interested, but I couldn't stop myself from saying, "I wish it was a serial killer. It would be a lot easier to deal with than a pack of vampires."

As soon as it was out of my mouth, I opened my eyes wide, surprised at myself. I had never spent so much time talking to a mark...it was usually purely physical. I could feel Hank freeze and move slowly away from my neck, laying back on his pillows to stare at me.

"A pack of vampires?"

I stared at him, trying to think of a way to spin it that didn't make me sound crazy. I could think of nothing and the longer I stared, the more I wanted to tell him everything. "It's 'coven'. Coven of vampires. I used the wrong word."

"You're serious," Hank said, sitting up. "Are you still drunk?"

I shook my head sadly. "I can't stay drunk," I replied sadly and then rolled away from Hank, standing at the foot of the bed wearing nothing by my bra and underwear. He moved so that he held physical contact with me with the side of his foot. "Why do I keep telling you the truth about everything? How are you doing that?"

Hank raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "You're telling me that the thing that is killing all those people is a coven of vampires? Vampires aren't real, Grace."

"They are," I said, covering my mouth as soon as it was passed my lips. "Hank, how are you doing it?"

Smiling slowly, Hank scooted towards the edge of the bed and held me by the waist. "I bring out the truth in people," he whispered. "It's one of my better qualities."

"But how?" I pressed. "I don't tell the truth. Ever." I backed away from him, forcing him to break physical contact with me and then I stepped forward to touch his shoulder. I was tossed into his subconscious and watched memories fly by once again. I saw flashes of guns and badges, interrogation rooms and a woman with long, dark curly hair, holding a large, ancient book. Coming out of the memories, I stared at him. "You're a witch," I whispered, "and not a journalist."

He smiled at me and shook his head. "And you're not a college student looking for a little adventure," he countered. "You're a hunter." He hesitated on the word, raising his eyebrows slowly. "And a psychic."

"Only by touch."

"I want my poker money back," he replied, grinning.

I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief. "I won that fair and square," I said, sitting on the bed next to him. "I thought only women were witches."

"My mother is a witch," Hank explained slowly. "She gets worried when I'm out on the job, so she performs a spell or two to keep me safe, truth-telling happens to be one of them."

"Alright, so I'm a hunter," I admitted, shrugging. "I keep people safe from things that go bump in the night…like a coven of vampires. What is your _actual_ job?" I asked, almost afraid to hear it.

Hank reached over to the nightstand and opened his wallet. There was a Federal Bureau of Investigation badge folded into the leather and I stared up at him dumbly. "FBI," he answered, smiling. "I guess I protect people from things that go bump in the night, too."

…

"He was a Fed?" Dean asked, chuckling. "An actual Fed?"

"A cheating Fed," Serra added, shaking her head. "You shouldn't be able to use spells when you're working for the government."

I ignored Serra and nodded towards Dean. "He was there investigating the deaths and disappearances, posing as a journalist so he wouldn't be made. He thought I was interesting."

"Well, you are," Dean replied, shrugging. He glanced at Sam and then back at Serra, saying, "But I thought this was a Serra story. Don't get me wrong, I am having a blast hearing about you banging a Fed, but I'd like to get to the part that makes Serra throw water bottles at my newborn."

I chuckled and looked down at the baby in my lap. Faith was still sleeping, comforted by our voices and the warmth from my body. "Alright, alright," I said, sighing. I took a deep breath, folding my legs under me as I got comfortable. Dean put his arm up on the back of the couch and I automatically leaned into him, continuing the story.

…

Later that night, Hank and I had exchanged stories and gotten more familiar with each other over the course of three love-making sessions. Around two in the morning, there was a firm knock on the door, followed by my sister's voice echoing annoyingly through the night, "I am not sleeping in your car again, Grace. Open the door. I'm tired and I smell like bourbon."

I rolled over and glanced at the clock, laughing slightly at the tone of Serra's voice. "Use your key," I answered. "It's cold."

"I don't know where my key is," Serra replied loudly, pounding on the door of the room again. "Get off your ass and let me in."

"Shut the hell up!" a voice from down the hall yelled, irritated at my sister's insistence. "Don't you know what time it is?"

"No! I don't!" Serra immediately yelled back. "Because I'm standing in the middle of a motel hallway, locked out of my room! What time is it?"

"It's two in the friggin' morning!" the stranger yelled. "I have to work in four hours!"

"Well, maybe you should stop yelling so we can all get some friggin' sleep!" Serra shouted.

I chuckled to myself, pulling on a tee shirt and stumbling to the door, while Hank watched me from bed. "Friend of yours?" Hank asked, sitting up slightly.

I shook my head and Serra tumbled in as I opened the door. She pushed her hair out of her face as I gestured to her. "My sister," I explained. "Sorry. She's…loud."

Hank chuckled to himself and rubbed his face. "It's okay," he replied, pulling the covers back and pulling on pants. "Nice to meet you."

"Oh, hey," Serra greeted, glancing at me. Her eyes went wide and smiled, translating Hank's good looks through non-verbal communication. "Serra," she said, extending her hand as he approached, shirtless.

In the dim light from the streetlights outside, I could see at least two bullet wound scars that had long since healed in his shoulder. He also had a tattoo on his upper bicep that looked like some sort of protection sigil. "Hank," he replied, shaking her hand. "I saw you in the bar."

"Oh, handsome and observant," Serra purred, stripping off her sweatshirt and heading to the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower." She hesitated in the doorway and made a face. "Dude, open a window," she demanded, glaring at me. "It smells like sex in here."

Shaking my head as Serra slammed the door, I shrugged at Hank. "See? Loud."

Hank nodded slowly, smiling at me. "Can I see you again?" he asked, stepping forward to kiss me.

"After we take out the coven," I said, looking up at him apologetically, "we'll probably just go home."

"You won't be taking anyone 'out'," he answered, using his fingers as air quotes. "That's why I'm here."

Shaking my head in disbelief, I asked, "What, are you going to arrest the vampires?"

He shrugged mysteriously, smiling. "Where's home?" he asked.

"Lawrence, Kansas," I sighed. "Sorry."

Hank kissed me again, shrugging. When I refocused on Hank, he continued, "So, I'll just have to get as much of you as I can before you disappear." As he backed away, he smiled. "Or I can just throw wrenches into your hunt."

"It seems weird that a Fed would know about hunters," I muttered, narrowing my eyes. "What else do you know about our world?"

"Nothing else I need to share right now. There's always tonight," he whispered. "Be safe." He grabbed his things off the nightstand as he threw on a tee shirt and pulled on his boots. "When I catch them first, I'll call you."

I tilted my head skeptically. "Right," I replied. "When you arrest the coven."

"Serial killers," he corrected, winking and closing the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Grace

The next morning, around eleven, Serra finally decided to join the land of the living. She lifted her head and looked around with her eyes squinted, trying to focus on her surroundings. "Good morning, sunshine," I greeted, staring at the map in front of me. "News announced another set of kills, right off the highway, pretty close to here."

"That's too much information," Serra murmured, laying her head back on her pillow. "Coffee."

"There is none," I said, not looking up. "You'll have to go to the gas station across the way."

Serra turned her head towards me and narrowed her eyes. "I hate you," she said simply.

"Yeah, yeah," I agreed, hearing the same thing I heard from my little sister on a pretty constant basis before coffee. "I love you, too." I continued relentlessly, even though I knew she wasn't really listening. "The coven seems to be centering around the seedier areas of town…lots of dive bars, motels, and trailer parks. The two from last night were right here, next to the train tracks that pass the backside of the parking lot."

"Oh my God, stop talking," Serra said into her pillow, holding her ears closed. "I'm not the one that got laid last night. I only drank."

"Hey, at least they were free."

"There's a reason that bourbon was free," she muttered, still face down in her pillow.

I chuckled and tossed a pair of pants towards her. It landed with a thump over her face and I beckoned with my keys. "Come on little girl," I teased. "You get up get dressed and I'll go find you coffee."

Serra peeked out from her blankets and stared at me from across the room. "Coffee and a bagel," she replied, unmoving.

"Coffee and a bagel," I repeated, reaching for the door. "When you're done, we're heading out to the trailer park. Gonna stake it out for a bit to see if we found our coven."

She mumbled something indistinguishable from the bed and I closed the door behind me. The air was crisp; autumn winds blew orange and brown leaves across the street, along with tumble weeds that stopped me a few times to cross my path without permission. As I reached the corner of the street, I hesitated and looked around, feeling someone watching me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a group of three or four boys about my age watching me from their spot in the gas station parking lot. Deciding to play it off the best way I knew how, I approached the truck and grinned, pulling my hair from my pony tail and shaking out the blonde waves.

"Hi there, boys," I greeted, walking right up to the old Chevy. "You see something you like?"

They were all staring at me before I had finished walking up to the truck and I secretly applauded my outfit choice, regardless of the chilly temperatures. I knew that my two best attributes were in their full glory right now: my shirt was a deep v-neck Indian Motorcycle shirt that Serra had cut apart years ago, making it skimpier than it should have been, showing off my cleavage, and my black spandex pants were hip-huggers that showed off my ass. I could get anything I wanted out of this group of testosterone-filled boys.

"Hell yeah," the tallest one said, leaning towards me. "I see a little of everything."

"Glad I could provide," I replied, tilting my head forward and smiling coyly. "Now, unless you wanna follow me home like a bunch of puppy dogs, maybe you could stop staring. You could give a girl the wrong idea."

"Apologies, miss," said one of the others with a deep southern drawl. He continued mysteriously, "You stay safe out there. We've heard there are some pretty nasty monsters, running around." He tipped his trucker hat, smiling lightly. "We wouldn't want the wrong set of teeth finding that pretty neck."

I was mid-turn, headed back towards the mini-mart, but stopped, almost tripping over my feet. There were only two reasons that he would have phrased it just that way: either they were hunters or vampires. Slowly, I turned back towards the boys that were scattered around the old pickup truck and my senses were overloaded, trying to pull in as much information as I could in the shortest amount of time.

There were four boys in their mid-twenties, two of which had tattoos up their arms. I acted like I was heading back towards the truck to flirt some more, but I used the time to inspect the sigils on their arms.

They were hunters.

"Where are you from?" I asked, standing on the curb.

Southern Drawl jumped down from the truck bed and approached me. I glanced down at his chest and saw immediately that he was packing. "Baton Rouge, Louisiana, sweetheart," he replied. He had an anti-possession tattoo on his shoulder that peeked out from his tee shirt and a pointed star that I didn't recognize. There were a few others that were familiar, but most of them were centered in the hoodoo culture.

"Explains the accent," I said, nodding. "I hope you're loaded with pure silver," I continued quietly. "Seems to me that the coven is at least eight large."

Southern Drawl glanced back towards the truck with his eyebrows reaching his hairline. "You hear that boys? Pretty and packing." He turned back and inspected me once more, grinning. "Where do you keep yours?"

I smiled, crossing my arms in front of me. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"This gentleman prefers brunettes," he replied, shaking his head. "Don't get me wrong, I'd hit that in a hot second," he said, holding up his hands as I raised my eyebrows. "But we're here for the fangs."

"Yeah, so are we," I nodded, sighing.

The other boys jumped down from the truck, approaching me more businesslike. "Who's we?" one asked, standing close to my right side.

"Why does it matter?" I asked, glancing at him, annoyed. "We've got it covered. You can go back to Louisiana." I turned towards the mini-mart and pulled open the door. "Nice to meet you, gentlemen."

Knowing Serra, she must have been watching the interaction through the window of the motel we stayed at, because the next thing I knew, I heard the bell to the mini-mart door ring and Serra got my attention, still groggy and fighting with her hair.

"What?" I asked, approaching her. "I thought I was supposed to bring you coffee?"

"Who are those guys?" she asked, ignoring me. "Why were you talking to them?"

I shook my head. "They're hunters from Louisiana." I clicked my tongue. "What, were you worried?"

"I don't like it when guys circle you," she muttered, flipping her hair to the opposite side of her head. "Gets me all worked up."

"No need," I said, handing her a cup of coffee. "I had them handled, as usual."

She nodded, taking a sip as I put six dollars on the counter for our coffee and bagels. "They're cute," she whispered, leaning towards me. "I like that tall one."

"Which one? There were two tall ones."

Serra shrugged and grinned behind her cup. "Bit of both?"

…

"Did you screw every guy you met?" Sam asked leaning forward. He was holding the baby now, glancing down at her every once and awhile and smiling sweetly at his daughter.

"At least you know she's got a type," Dean added, chuckling. "Mine just fucked a Fed."

Serra and I stared at each other and giggled, covering our faces. "It's going to get worse," I said quietly, trying not to laugh. "So much worse."

Holding up her hands, Serra closed her eyes and shook her head. "I would really like to reiterate that he had a Southern accent. He made me mac and cheese," Serra whined, shaking her head. "He had a pompadour and a beard, for Christ's sake."

Sam's face was red, whether from embarrassment or anger, I really couldn't tell. Either way, I didn't know if I should continue. I glanced at Serra and shrugged. "You wanna take it from here?"

Sighing, Serra shook her head. "I don't know why. Nothing else happened after that."

"Serra," I said, scolding. "Come on. We started this story. We need to finish it."

"Wait!" Dean said, jumping up from the couch and jogging to the refrigerator. "I need another beer," he glanced back at us and raised his eyebrows. "Or should it be something stronger?"

"Not bourbon," Sam said under his breath.

Grabbing the bottle of Jameson from the counter top, he also took the bucket of ice from the freezer and four glasses. "There," he said, setting them down on the coffee table. "Now we can continue."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Serra

Anytime a group of guys gathers around Grace, it usually ends badly, but this time, the group of hunters she stumbled upon seemed to be upstanding guys. They were Southern, tattooed and properly groomed. Translation: every one of them was fuckable.

Especially the guy with the beard.

I approached her in the mini mart and she explained who they were (hunters) and the fact that they were in town for the same reason we were (fangs).

"Don't they realize that we've got it covered?" I whispered, leaning towards Grace. "Unless they plan on taking us out to eat, they need to just stay out of the way."

Grace nodded as she paid for our food. "I know, Lucky, but they're here and I'm not about to start a turf war over some fangs. If they want the coven, they can have the coven."

"You giant pussy," I replied, making a face. "We're here and we're gonna do the job. I didn't come all the way to fucking El Paso to just turn around and go home. Especially considering you've been laid and I haven't." Grace rolled her eyes. "I feel left out."

Grace pushed her way through the glass doors and the boys smiled at her again, checking out her boobs and her ass, just like they did the first time. I was wearing her ugly red sweatpants that I had to roll twice to keep myself from tripping over them and an old Chevy sweatshirt. I looked like shit.

"We didn't introduce ourselves before, miss," the bearded hot one said, holding out his hand to Grace. "My name is Byron and this here is Benjamin. Then we've got Anthony and Peter," he finished, still holding out his hand. I knew Grace would avoid the handshake if at all possible, so I stepped forward and shook it before she had a chance to look stupid.

"I'm Lucky," I said, licking my lips and smiling sweetly. I could see Grace roll her eyes again as she made the move to step down the curb. "That's my sister Grace. She's got a boyfriend."

Byron smiled, staring at me from under long, dark eyelashes. This man might be one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen.

…

"Hey!" Sam said, tilting his head. "If you're going to tell the rest of this story, do you think maybe you could keep the editorials to yourself?"

"Babe," I said, shaking my head. "I was twenty. I was horny. He was gorgeous." I shook the bottle for Charlie and sighed, "Besides, you're the one I'm banging now."

Dean chuckled from his place on the couch and rubbed his face. "Shut up, Sam," he said, glancing over at his brother. "Let your wife tell how she fucked the guy with the beard."

Sam rolled his eyes and leaned back into the cushions of the chair. I stared at him long enough to know he wasn't actually mad and continued.

…

"There's four inside," I whispered to Grace as I used her car to steady my arms as I looked through the scope of the Winchester long rifle later that day. "And at least two down in the basement. Saw them go down a few minutes ago."

"Brings our total up to eight with the two we saw earlier," Grace replied, shaking her head. "I don't know if we have enough silver."

I turned to stare at her and narrowed my eyes. "We can always just decapitate them," I offered. "I'm just not as good hand to hand as you are. I'd rather just take the shots."

Grace nodded, mentally totaling the bullets that were in the ammo box between us. "We only have about two dozen rounds of silver," she said, sighing. "You take the silver and I'll take a machete. We should be good."

"We could always call Byron and the boys," I suggested, waggling my eyebrows. "Go hunting; bond. Have copious amounts of sex."

"Byron is a stupid name," Grace commented, still staring at the ammo box and ignoring me. "We've only got about four hours of daylight left. We'll come at them tonight."

"Why can't we ever attack something during the day?" I asked as she put her car into reverse and backed up the dirt road that overlooked the vampire's cabin. "You know, when we can see and have the advantage?"

Grace shook her head as she drove us back to the motel. "How would you explain discharging a firearm in the middle of the day, attacking something that looks human to the cop that would charge us with first degree murder?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're so dramatic."

Later that night, when we headed back towards the vampire cabin, there was another truck parked on the same dirt road slope where we had been earlier. Instantly, I recognized it as Byron and the rest of his hunters. "They beat us here," I whispered as we jogged through the brush. "Do I look okay? Are my boobs showing?"

"Jesus Christ, Serra, focus," Grace shot back at me, carrying two machetes. "If they're here, maybe we should wait for the stragglers that they're going to miss.

Shrugging, I agreed, especially considering we didn't have ammo to waste. We waited only a few minutes before the first set of gunshots rang out, catching our attention.

"They're not even using suppressors," Grace critiqued, shaking her head. "Amateurs."

I stared towards the cabin, shaking my hands a bit, getting myself psyched up for the fight. "I hear something," I commented, listening hard. "They're yelling."

Grace tilted her head, straining to hear as well. "I don't think things are going well," she whispered, moving closer to the cabin.

I followed silently, keeping my guns lowered, but still ready for anything that may have gotten away from the other hunters. Suddenly, one of the boys was tossed through a window at our feet, throwing glass across our boots and into our hair. "Jesus!" I shouted, jumping back. Benjamin stared up at me, blood covering his face. "What the hell? Are you okay?" He turned towards me and sputtered twice, blood dripping down his cheek. As the light hit his face and neck, I could see that he had been bitten. "Oh, shit, Grace," I whispered, pulling her back. "Look."

She stared down, inspecting the bite mark on his neck. "He's done," Grace replied, shaking her head. "Didn't you come ready?" she asked him, looking betrayed.

"We didn't have enough silver," he croaked, coughing. "They're too fast."

Grace looked up at me and pressed her lips together, nodding once. I opened my mouth, trying to take a deep breath and stared down at Benjamin. Seconds passed, but I couldn't do it.

"He'll turn, Serendipity, and you know it," she whispered, crouching down below the light of the window. Glass broke in the background and we could hear the sounds of vampires growling and more gunfire as the remaining boys fought for their lives inside. "If you're not going to, I'll take care of it."

I shook my head and handed Grace one of my guns. She took it, sighing, and stared down at him. "Sorry Benjamin," I whispered, "but you know I've got to do it."

He braced himself and nodded, gasping through his nose, struggling to breathe. Grace lowered the 1911 Colt forty-five towards his head and fired once, silencing his struggling. I wiped my face, trying to get myself back in the game, and turned in tandem with Grace as another player entered the game.

We shielded our faces from the headlights from a Ford Crown Victoria and I rolled my eyes, making a face at Grace. "Your boyfriend picked a hell of a time to be a hero."

She stared at the car and shook her head. "Great," she whispered, ducking out of view as he got out of the car with his own gun drawn. "He's gonna get himself killed." Immediately, she turned and began to jog towards the entrance of the house and I followed closely in her wake. We moved silently, almost reading each other's thoughts. She held up a hand and gestured towards the door as Hank approached. "I'm gonna head him off," she whispered. "Stay put and cover me."

I nodded and took my gun back from her hand. Kneeling down under the window of the house, I listened to the sounds of the struggle as they raged on from inside. Grace approached Hank quickly, holding up her hands as she came out of the darkness and when he realized it was her, he immediately looked confused. I could barely hear them as she pulled him to the side of the house. "What are you doing, Grace?" he asked, ducking instinctively as another gunshot rang through the night. "Who is that? Why are you covered in blood?"

"They're vampires, Hank," Grace explained, "we went through this earlier. Another group of hunters beat us to the coven and they're getting their asses kicked."

He stared at her and seemed disbelieving. "How many?" he asked, glancing at the house.

"At least eight," she replied, following his gaze. "And unless you've got silver in that federal issue, all you're going to do is make a lot of noise."

Hank glanced at his gun. "What do we do?" he asked, holstering his weapon. "They are murderers. They need to be taken care of."

"Yeah," she agreed. "We're trying, but the boys kind of blew our element of surprise. We can take them, but they're in the way." Grace glanced back at me and we both ducked again as a vampire came running through the other window, breaking the glass, hissing at us. "Oh, shit," Grace whispered, stepping in front of Hank, raising her machete. The vampire made eye contact with her and stood up to his full height. He was huge, easily towering over her by eleven inches and outweighed her by about two hundred pounds.

Hank made the move to push Grace behind him, but she rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Serra?" she asked calmly.

I took the shot immediately after being prompted and the vamp dropped at her feet. Hank watched him fall to the ground and in one motion, Grace decapitated him as well; his fangs bared as his head rolled comically towards her.

They paused and exchanged a look that I couldn't exactly read, but the next thing I knew, Hank was spinning Grace against the house and spreading her legs with his feet, patting her down and handcuffing her.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I shouted, approaching them. Another gunshot rang out behind us, making Hank duck his head, but my sister and I stayed still. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Arresting her for the murder of this man," he replied, glancing up at me. "And you're next, Serra. You two are as bad as they are."

"Holy shit," I yelled, shaking my head in disbelief as another two vampires came running outside. They saw us immediately and leaped into the air with their fangs bared, intent on attacking us. I fired twice, taking one of them out of the sky, but I missed the second shot. Grace spun out of the way as the vampire went after her. I fired again and grazed his shoulder, enraging him, and turning his attention back to me.

Hank pulled his gun and shouted to the vampire, "Stop where you are," he said; his voice full of authority. "I said freeze."

Slowly, the vampire turned and tilted his head at Hank, smiling lightly. He ran at Hank, knocking him down and Hank fired three times, attempting to throw him from his body. Grace, still handcuffed, kicked the vampire in the head hard enough to knock him off of Hank and I took the opportunity to fire twice more, finally dropping the bastard on top of Hank.

Grace stood back, ducking out of the line of a bullet that had been fired from inside the house. It grazed her arm and she swore, leaning up against the wall. Another vampire caught sight of her and I raised my arm to fire, but nothing happened when I pulled the trigger. We both stared at the gun and she made a face as the vampire rushed her. Grace jumped to kick the vampire in the chest with one of her boots and she knocked him to the ground, but he was up again before she had a chance to recover.

"Fucking suppressors," I muttered, spinning the tube off the barrel of my gun. We had gotten this set second hand and I knew when I put them on the first time that they weren't the quality we needed them to be. This one had managed to jam the barrel of my forty-five.

"Serra!" Grace shouted, spinning out of the way again as the vampire attacked her relentlessly, "a little help here!"

"Yeah," I murmured, still spinning the suppressors off. "Hold on."

"Hold on?" she yelled, kicking the vampire, hard, between the legs. He collapsed momentarily as Hank made his way to his feet. She glanced at him as the vampire managed to stand back up, hissing at the Fed once more. "Don't let him bite you, Hank. Seriously."

The fang lunged, forcing Hank to take a step back. Grace kicked him again, shoving him into the tree behind him and Hank fired his useless gun again, only successful on making the vampire angry. Finally, I managed to get the suppressors off of my gun, discharged the jammed silver bullet on the ground and reloaded. I was back in action.

Without a second thought, I fired twice into the fang's head and he dropped immediately.

…

"You were doing all of that handcuffed?" Dean asked, pouring us another glass of Jameson. "Talk about turning a guy on."

Grace laughed, shaking her head. "It wasn't that impressive," she said, staring back down at the baby as she drank the bottle Grace held. "The wound on my arm just made it bloodthirsty. Honestly, the whole fight was pretty sloppy."

I grinned at my sister and nodded. "It really was. I can't believe Hank handcuffed you in the middle of a fang fight. He was relentless, man."

"His mother was a witch," Sammy added. "He didn't get that you guys were there to help?"

Rolling my eyes and shrugging, I shook my head slowly. "Apparently not. He just kept getting in the way."

Grace tilted her head, "It's not his fault, Luck. He was just trying to uphold the law."

Dean flicked his gaze towards his wife and raised his eyebrows. "Uphold the law when vampires are involved? Are you defending the cowboy?"

"Just shut up and listen," Grace replied, turning back towards me. "Keep going, Sere."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Serra

Hank led Grace to the government-issued Crown Victoria and shoved her into the back seat. "Stop!" I yelled. "We haven't done a sweep yet. We don't know if there are any more. We've gotta check for the boys too!"

Shaking his head, Hank slammed the door and turned to face me. "Come on, Serra, your turn," he said, holding out a pair of handcuffs and I immediately backed away from him.

"No, Hank," I said, pressing my lips together. "I don't think I'm gonna let you arrest us today." There was a crash as breaking glass hit the ground. Byron and Anthony were thrown through a window and two more vampires jumped out of the house, looking around. The boys seemed unconscious and the only thought I had was to get the vampires away from them and heading towards us instead. I ran around to the driver's side of the Crown Vic and jumped in, starting the car and throwing it into reverse. Hank thought I was stealing the car with my sister inside, and he leapt for the door and threw himself in through the passenger side window.

As I was backing up the driveway, Hank was pulling himself in to sit correctly in the seat and trying to get me to stop. I wasn't having it. Through the bars guarding the front seat from the back, Grace reached her arms through and wrapped the handcuff chain around Hank's neck, apologizing the whole time.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but you're just in the way right now." She put her entire body into suffocating him and finally, after quite a fight, he went limp. Immediately, Grace let the pressure off of his neck and she checked his pulse, sighing. "That's good," she said, pulling her small hands from the handcuffs, "just got to sleep. We'll take care of this."

"You're gonna need to take the wheel," I said over my shoulder as we turned and took off down the highway, the vampires hot on our tail in an old 1980s Chevy Blazer.

Grace grunted as she tried to fit through the bars that separated the front seat from the back. There was a gunshot and we both ducked as she fell through the grate, landing hard on Hank's unconscious body. "Are they firing at us?"

"Biting us isn't enough," I muttered, shaking my head. "Are you ready?" Grace spun in her seat, nodding. She scooted closer to me and I counted down. "Three, two…one!" Grace pushed herself under my body and I slipped over her, grabbing my guns and throwing myself over Hank. I sat on the edge of the window frame and whipped around to face the Blazer. I could feel the surge in speed as Grace floored it, trying her best to keep out of reach of the vampires and the Crown Victoria's Police Interceptor big block 454 engine didn't disappoint.

"She's fast!" Grace yelled from behind the wheel to me. "Are we running or fighting?"

"I don't know if we can out run them!" I shouted back, firing twice towards the Blazer that was gaining on us in record time.

Grace nodded to herself, making the decision. "Fighting then," she said. "Hold on to something!" she told me and automatically, I wrapped my foot around the seatbelt and pressed my arm into the window frame, locking myself into place. Stomping hard on her brakes, Grace pulled the Crown Vic into neutral and spun us in a one-hundred-eighty degree turn, whipping us hard in the middle of the highway. Immediately, she gunned it again, heading right towards the Chevy Blazer. Grace's voice came over the squeal of tires, shouting, "Tires or engine block, Lucky! Dealer's choice!"

Now facing the Blazer, I unloaded my twin silver-on-black engraved Colt forty-five 1911s. I didn't miss. Both front tires immediately exploded on impact and the Blazer erupted into flames as my bullets ripped through the engine. The vampire that was driving tried to regain control of it by turning into the skid, but the models from the 80s were prone to roll-overs. It tumbled end over end, flipping in mid air at least twice before landing on its roof in the gulley off the side of the highway.

I laughed out loud and congratulated my sister on a job well done. "That was amazing, Gracie!" I shouted, still grinning. She skidded to a stop, I leaped out of the Crown Vic, and followed her as she ran towards the wreckage, making sure that the vampires didn't run once they were free of the Blazer. She pulled her tiny nine millimeter out of her boot and put two silver bullets into the heads of each of the two vampires that were still attempting to attack us. They were finally still and she grinned.

"Well, that was new," she chuckled, wiping her face. "Fucking El Paso."

I giggled next to her and stared at the wreckage, nodding in agreement and echoed, "Fucking El Paso."

From behind us, I heard the Crown Victoria's door shut. "Ladies, please put your hands in the air," Hank's voice said, and we exchanged glances as we both raised our arms and turned.

"Hank," Grace started, "you have to understand that they weren't people. They were monsters." She glanced at me and I nodded, allowing my guns to slip down my fingers on the trigger guards, surrendering. "You're a part of this world. We are monster hunters; this is what we do."

Hank approached us slowly, still aiming his nine mil at us. I honestly couldn't figure a way out of this, so I held my tongue and let Grace do what she did best. He took a breath and shook his head, trying his best to wrap his head around what he had seen. "You just killed two men," he said, shaking his head. "There were more back at the house, too."

"Not men," Gracie explained. "Vampires. The same vampires that have been leaving a trail of bodies across the southwest."

Hank shook his head again. "You still murdered them. They should have stood trial," he said, grasping at straws. "I should have been able to take them in."

Grace pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, searching for words. "Hank," she said again, sighing. "We're good people. We protect civilians, just like you do. We just happen to protect them from things that most of them don't believe exist. I know you believe me...your mother is a witch. You got me to tell you the truth with a spell."

There was movement in the trees to the south of us and I did my best not to turn immediately. No one else's attention had shifted and I wanted to make sure I wasn't the only one hearing it. Grace's eyes flicked towards the tree line suddenly as well, and I knew she had heard it too. She wanted to turn so badly, but she held her ground, still facing Hank.

I chanced a look as Grace entertained Hank and realized that it was Benjamin, the hunter that had been bitten at the house. "What the hell?" I whispered, shaking my head. I knew Grace had put a bullet in his head. "Grace," I murmured. "It's Benjamin."

"What?" she asked, turning away from Hank. She took a step away from the tree line and Hank's face dropped, seeing the man he had seen Grace shoot back on his feet and walking towards us in a sloppy way. Benjamin seemed to be fighting with himself and tried to hold them back, but his new fangs pushed their way through his gums and he hissed at us. "Holy shit!" she yelled, stepping away from Benjamin and towards Hank. "I put a bullet through your head!"

I was searching my head for a reason why Benjamin would still be alive and my eyes went wide as I realized what happened. "There was still a shot in the barrel," I spat, realizing my mistake. "I didn't discharge anything before I loaded the mag with silver. His bullet wasn't silver."

"Shit," Grace said, backing away. "Benjamin, think logically," she pleaded, glancing back at Hank to gauge his reaction. "Do you see? He was dead, now he's not. And he has a special bonus," she muttered, shaking her head. "Now he's got fangs too."

Hank shook his head in disbelief. Behind us, the gas tank of the Blazer lit and the heat from the flames reached us quickly. I knew for a fact that I was out of silver and the tiny nine that Grace carried only had two or three rounds in it, so she was spent, too. The machetes were back at the house and we were left, face to face, with a large ex-hunter, now a new vampire and trying to fight his new impulses.

Grace turned back to Benjamin and held her hands out, surrendering. "Benjamin," she began, "I know you can hear me. You've gotta take control and leave before you smell me. I'm still bleeding." She glanced down at her arm and made a face.

Benjamin closed his eyes, shook his head, and took a deep breath. "You need to go back and check on the guys," he said, his southern accent slurring his speech ever so slightly. "Byron's hurt pretty bad and I couldn't…I couldn't do anything. I ran."

Nodding, Grace turned back towards Hank. "Let's go," she whispered, motioning back towards the Crown Victoria. "Go now."

I jogged back towards the car and jumped in next to Hank. He started the engine and peeled out, hesitating only long enough to pick up Grace and drive away. We headed back to the house, which had caught on fire, and dragged Byron, Anthony, and Peter from the flames and broken glass.

We dragged them back to our motel room and stitched and cleaned them up, inspecting their bodies for bites. All three of them seemed to be in the clear, so as I dozed next to Byron, Grace and Hank went outside to talk.

…

I stopped and took a breath and chuckled at the looks on the faces of my husband and brother-in-law. "What?" I asked, laughing. "We were fine."

Dean shook his head, coming out of his reverie. "Yeah, but that was a hell of a fight," he chuckled. "Amazing that there were so many hunters in one place. You don't see that too often." He glanced at Sam and tilted his head. "How often did we ever run into another group of hunters like that?"

Sam made a face and shook his head. "Hardly ever."

Dean nodded and glanced back at me. "See? It's rare."

"Well," Sam said, "there aren't very many of us, and with the way we are getting killed off all the time…we're kind of going extinct."

Nodding, Grace agreed. "Yeah, which is why I had no desire to stay in that world," she replied quietly. "But here we are, making babies as hunters." She glared at Dean momentarily. "Our babies better not end up like us," she added, shaking her head.

Dean held up his hands, backing away. "Hey," he said laughing, "we own an auto body shop. If they become hunters, it's not my fault."

Sam watched Dean and Grace for a second, then turned to me. "There was nothing embarrassing about that story," he said, raising his eyebrows. "What happened next?"

I shrugged. "Nothing. That's the end."

"Liar," Grace said, shaking her head. "The best part is coming."

Sam tilted his head, smiling lightly. "Well, considering she's not spilling the beans…"

Grace chuckled and rolled her eyes, "I'll take it from here."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Grace

"We're going to go get some food and then head back to their motel for a bit to watch that 'Scream' movie from the nineties," Serra said, nodding back towards the boys that were starting to wake up in our motel room after the afternoon of cleaning and stitching their bloody wounds. "They're bumming hard about Benjamin."

I nodded, only partially listening to my sister. Hank was still on the fence about arresting us and I was halfway to getting him to let us walk. She distracted him and I was hoping I would be able to get him back. "Okay, whatever," I was saying, staring at Hank. "Have them take you back to the vampire house and pick up my car."

Serra nodded and disappeared back into the motel room. "You have to understand," I was saying to Hank, pleading. "Hunting is something that keeps humans safe. My family has been doing it for longer than I remember. My grandparents did the same thing. It's in our blood."

Hank shook his head slowly. "Grace," he was saying, "I don't know."

"I know you know about this world," I replied, leaning into his chest and staring up at him. "Your mother is a witch. You have to understand that these kinds of things exist."

Hank closed his eyes and shook his head again, automatically wrapping his arms around me. "Pressing your boobs into my chest isn't going to be what changes my mind," he said; a smile finally touching his lips.

"It might be," I replied, smiling slowly, knowing that he wasn't going to arrest either one of us.

The motel door opened and Byron came out slowly, using Serra as a crutch. The gash on his shoulder had bled relentlessly, and I had managed to stitch him up and stem the bleeding, but I knew that he would need some heavy healing time. Serra walked past me and grinned, waggling her eyebrows. She was hooked.

…

We spent two more nights in El Paso and I was wrapped around Hank most of the time. On Monday morning, after being in El Paso for three days, it occurred to me that I hadn't heard from Serra in almost forty-eight hours, which was so unlike us. We communicated constantly and the fact that I hadn't even gotten a text from her concerned me.

I rolled over and leaned across Hank's bare chest to get to my phone, which was charging on the nightstand from the night before. "What are you doing?" he asked as I began to dial.

"I'm calling Serra," I replied, listening to the other ring repeatedly. Finally, frustrated, I hung up and shook my head. "It's not like her not to check in when she's with a guy."

"She told you before she left that they were going back to the motel where the other guys were staying," Hank murmured. "So what's the big deal?"

"That was two days ago, Hank. We've been too busy fucking to realize that my sister is missing."

I was up and out of bed, getting dressed, before he had a chance to argue. "I need my keys," I muttered, patting myself down, feeling my pockets. Serra had done as she promised and brought my car back from the vampire house the night she took off with the boys. "Where the hell are my keys?"

Hank leaned forward and tossed them to me. "You want me to come?" he asked, rubbing his face.

I was already shaking my head. "No, I'll take care of it. She's probably just passed out at a bar or something. Maybe she and what's-his-name shacked up somewhere else."

"Byron?"

"It's a stupid name." I turned on my heel and waved as I opened the door. "I'll talk to you later, okay?" I said, closing the door behind me.

I drove for about twenty minutes, heading to the sketchy motels that I knew I had seen when we were looking for ours. Finally, I saw the black pickup truck that we had seen Byron and the boys sitting on in the mini mart parking lot a few days prior. "Finally," I said quietly, shaking my head. I pulled into the lot and headed towards the lobby, unbuttoning the top two buttons on my flannel, making sure enough cleavage showed to be distracting.

The bell above me tinkled, announcing my entrance into the lobby and a greasy, teenaged-something kid turned to watch me walk in. His hair was matted to his face and it was covered in acne and scars. "Hi," I greeted, regaining control of my initial surprise. "I'm lookin' for my sister. She's brunette?" I prompted, waiting patiently for a response. "Short? Pretty?" He just stared at me, still breathing through his mouth. Finally, I rolled my eyes. "Stacked?"

The teenager stared at me, his mouth hanging open slightly as he breathed. He blinked recognition, "She come in with a couple of dudes?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's her. What room are they in?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you stuff like that."

I sighed and shook my head. "Look," I glanced at his name tag, "Jeff. I don't have time to go through all this with you. I'm tired. I'm dirty. I want to sleep in my own bed." I leaned on the counter, pushing my breasts up as high as they would go, forcing Jeff to glance down as I knocked the pen off the countertop. "Can you just tell me what room she's in so I can take her sorry ass home?"

Jeff sighed as he seemed to come to a conclusion. "They're in room one-seventeen," he sighed, a lisp on the edge of his tongue.

I sighed gratefully. "Thank you, Jeff," I said, smiling. I immediately turned towards the door and pulled it open, glancing at the doors closest to me for the room numbers. I was in the one hundreds, but I had to round the corner for the teens.

Reaching the door marked "117," I knocked three times in rapid succession and then twice more, letting Serra know it was me. I heard movement inside and a man's southern drawl. I knew I had the right room. Shifting my weight from my right foot to my left, I tapped my foot impatiently as I waited.

Finally, the door opened and the tall, bearded hunter stood in front of me, rubbing his face and looking confused. "I'm looking for my sister," I said, tilting my head. He reeked of whiskey and cigarettes.

"What?"

"My sister," I repeated slowly. "Serra?"

He stared at me for a long time before he took a breath to answer. "Who are you?" he asked, his words slurred.

"For the love of all that's holy…" I muttered, throwing my elbow into his neck and shoving him against the door. "Look," I started, his eyes finally completely focused on me. "I know she's here and right now, you're just in my way. So unless you want a broken rib, I would suggest moving out of the way so I can collect her."

I left him against the door, rubbing his neck as I stepped over clothes and duffle bags that had been strewn about the motel room. Serra was sleeping in a ball, curled up on the edge of the bed, almost completely naked. I sighed and shook my head, nudging her with my hand. "Serra," I said, "come on. I'm ready to go home."

She turned slightly and kept her eyes closed. "Grace?" she asked, trying to open her left eye. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to get you," I explained, annoyed.

"What?" she asked, turning more, the sheet pulling with her as she rolled over. "Why?"

I laughed and shook my head, bending down to get her jeans, flannel, bra, and underwear that had been scattered all over the room. "Why?" I asked, chuckling. "Because you've been at it for two days. It's time to come up for air and sober up."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Serra asked, sitting up in bed and catching the clothes I tossed at her. "Two days?"

"Yeah," I replied, putting my hands on my hips. "You've been gone with this fool for two days." I watched as Serra pulled her flannel on and buttoned it up, stopping her when I noticed something on her ribcage. "What is that?"

She looked down, still thoroughly confused. "What is what?" she asked, looking down. "Two days? That was yesterday, Grace. I've been gone one night."

"No," I disagreed again. "It's Monday, and that is a tattoo."

"What?" she gasped, standing from the bed, pulling up her shirt and stumbling to the mirror. "What tattoo?"

"A heart with a Colt forty-five across it," I answered, tilting my head. "It's actually not bad." Glancing back up into Serra's face, I narrowed my eyes. "What, you don't remember getting a new tattoo? That's still got scabs. It's fresh."

"Oh my God, I don't remember," she muttered, inspecting herself in the mirror.

She was still naked from the waist down and I shook my head, saying, "Put some pants on."

I turned back towards the hunter she had been bedding and noticed that he was shirtless as well, wearing only boxers to answer the door. I stared at him momentarily and narrowed my eyes at his already tattooed chest. "What is that?" I asked, approaching him, pointing to the new tattoo that was across his ribs in pretty much the same place as Serra's new tattoo. "Oh my God," I whispered. "Serendipity Adeline Browning, what have you done?"

…

Sam was leaning so far forward on his chair that he looked like he would fall out at any minute. "What?" he asked; his voice desperate. "What did she do?"

I laughed at the look on his face. Dean was holding his newest daughter against his chest, patting her gently as I spoke and he turned to stare at me as well with his eyebrows raised. "I'm kinda dying here too," he said, shaking his head. "You triple named her."

Serra shot me a look and closed her eyes to shake her head. "I can't believe I'm letting you tell this story."

"I can't believe we don't know this story," Dean said, laughing. "Show me the ink." She shook her head slowly; the look on her face was dangerous. Dean continued, "Okay, maybe not."

Sam glanced at his brother. "It's there," he said. "Just like Grace says: A heart outline with a Colt over top of it. Not to scale." Sammy leaned forward towards me again and gestured with his hands. "Well?" he asked. "What did she do?"

…

I stepped closer to inspect the newest tattoo on Byron's ribs and shook my head slowly. "You let him tattoo your name on his body?"

" _What?"_ Serra said, almost running to where I stood.

…

" _What?"_ Sam yelled, breaking my concentration on the story. I giggled along with Dean, who had woken Faith up with the laughter deep in his chest. "Some dude is walking around out there with your name on his ribs?"

"Oh, man, if you're reacting like this to that part of the story, we're gonna have problems in a couple of minutes," Serra muttered, shaking her head and staring at Charlotte's hair.

Sam was standing, staring back down at Serra in disbelief. "It gets _worse?"_

I tried not to laugh, but I couldn't help myself, so I covered my mouth with my hand as Dean rubbed Faith's back, trying to get her to go back to sleep.

Calming enough to sit down, Sam shook his head and took a deep breath. "Okay," he said, holding out his hands. "Okay, I'm calm. Go."

…

"Oh my God," Serra whispered, holding Byron's arm up over his head so that she could inspect the ornate italic version of 'Serendipity' scrawled across the side of his body. "Oh my God, why did you _do_ that?" she gasped, staring up at him.

Byron was unfocused and tried his best to smile. I knew for a fact that he was still drunk from the night before. "Because I love you!" he said cheerfully. "You're my girl now you're my _wife._ "

" _I'm your what?"_ Serendipity screamed.

…

"You _married_ him?" Sam was standing and staring at my sister, his arms splayed wide. "Serra, why haven't you told me about all this?"

Dean tilted his head at his brother and raised his eyebrows. "Well Sammy, have you told her about a little someone named Becky?"

I giggled at the memory of Sam's 'wedding' to a girl that harbored a pretty major crush on him, so desperate that she had asked for a love potion from a demon, almost paying for it with her soul. I had seen the memory many times in Dean's mind. Sam whipped around to stare at Dean, his hands running through his hair as he tried to think of something to say.

Serra brought her legs up into the chair behind Sam, hiding as much as she could behind their tiny newborn daughter. I exchanged looks with her and shook my head, laughing at her reaction. I knew she already knew about Becky, but Sam didn't know that.

"Are you going to let me finish telling the story or not?" I asked, staring at Sam. "Obviously, you were able to marry her, so it's not like it's still legal."

Sam closed his eyes and rolled his head from side to side.

Dean was grinning and glanced at me. "This is better than a movie," he said, looking back at his brother. "You're all tense and angsty."

"Anyway," I said, getting back to it. "Serra was pretty freaked.

"Freaked?" she repeated. "That's not a strong enough word."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Grace

Serra was hitting Byron in the chest as I rubbed my face. "How could you have gotten married?" I asked through my fingers. "How could you have possibly been that drunk?"

"I don't know!" Serra was yelling in between hitting her new husband's chest. "How! Could! You! Do! This!" she yelled, enunciating each word with a punch. "What were you thinking? I'm only eighteen!"

Byron's eyes were half closed, but he had a smile on his face, obviously impervious to Serra's hits. "True love knows no number, my Serendipity."

"Stop calling me that!" Serra shrieked. She turned back to me and ran her hands through her long, dark hair. "What are we going to do?"

"Calm down," I said quietly. "Maybe it's not even legal. Where were you last night? The night before? What do you remember?"

"Nothing. I remember fucking the almighty shit out of him," she started, using her thumb to point backwards. "I remember drinking a lot of whiskey. I remember eating pretzels and having more whiskey…" she faded off and rubbed her face again, shaking her head. "I can't remember anything after that."

"Holy shit, Serra," I sighed. "If this is legal, we're going to have to annul it. I don't even know how to do that." I turned on Byron, smacking his arm. "Where were you last night?"

"What?" he asked, trying to smooth his hair back into place.

"Last night," I began, as if speaking to a toddler. "Where did you get married?"

Bryon smiled and pointed behind him. "The Littlest Chapel with the Biggest Heart!" he exclaimed proudly. "It's right there in downtown. It's so tiny!" he said, demonstrating with his index finger and thumb.

"Was there a marriage certificate?" I pressed.

Byron turned towards the tiny table in the middle of the motel room, scattered with beer bottles and condom wrappers. I made a face, completely disgusted, and shook my head slowly, glancing at my sister. She closed her eyes, probably trying to wish it all away. Finally, Byron held up an official-looking piece of paper. "Yeah," he said, smiling lopsidedly. "Dude gave us one. It's right here! Stamped and everything."

I ripped the paper from his hands and stared at it. Sure enough, it was an official marriage license issued from the state of Texas. "Oh, shit," I whispered, holding the page out to my sister. "Congratulations," I continued sarcastically. "Where are you registered?"

Serra jerked it out of my hands and held it up to her face, staring at the print. "What? I can't…this can't…"

"It is," I replied, gesturing. "You managed it."

"Managed what?"

"To get married before me. Never thought that would happen."

Serra tossed the page up into the air and turned in frustration, throwing herself on the bed. She began talking into the pillow and I had no idea what she was saying, she was speaking so quickly while being so muffled.

"What?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips.

"Fix this, Grace!" she yelled, turning away from the bed. "Do something!"

Rolling my eyes, I held my hands out to the room. "Well, get your shit together and we'll head back to our motel. Make some calls." I turned back to Byron and held out my phone. "You. Are you listening?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes wider, trying to focus on my face. "Yes, Serendipity's sister," he declared proudly.

"Grace."

"Yes, Grace," Byron repeated obediently.

Handing him my phone, I took a deep breath. "Put your phone number into my phone," I began, shaking my head. "We're getting this marriage annulled. I don't need to be in-laws with another hunter." He took it and began typing his phone number into my keypad. After handing it back, I pressed send, listening carefully. Somewhere in the room, I could hear the vibration of a cell phone ringing. "Okay," I said, "just checking that it's your real number, because when I call, you had better answer. If you don't answer," my voice dropped dangerously low, "I will come back to Texas and I will track you down. Then I will kill you."

Byron watched me carefully and nodded slowly. "I don't live in Texas."

"I would still find you," I whispered. "There are monsters that are not supposed to exist," I continued. "But I still find them."

Byron nodded slowly, his hazel eyes wide. "Serendipity, your sister is truly terrifying."

"If you think she's scary, just wait to see what I do if I can't get this marriage annulled," Serra muttered.

She zipped the duffle shut and slung it onto her back. "Alright," she said, shaking her head. "Let's go."

Byron stopped her in the doorway and held out his arms. "Wait, wait, wait!" he shouted, his voice worried. "I love you!"

"You don't love me," she said, shaking her head. "You're still really drunk. Or high. I really can't tell, but either way, when you come down, you're gonna wanna put some ointment on that." Serra pointed to his ribs, where her name was scrawled. The scabs looked stressed and dry and would really hurt in the morning. "Just remember," she continued, shaking her head, "That wasn't my idea."

He smiled broadly and nodded. "It was mine!" Byron exclaimed proudly. "I'll have a piece of you forever with me."

"I still can't believe you have even survived this long as a hunter," Serra muttered, shaking her head. "Let's get the hell out of here."

…

We got back to the motel and Hank was up and dressed, flipping through channels on the TV in bed. "Hey, you found her!" he said in greeting. "I was getting worried."

"Yeah," I sighed, shaking my head. "You know anything about getting marriages annulled?"

Hank stared at us for more than a few seconds and tilted his head. "How long were you gone?"

Serra tossed her bag onto the other bed across the room and turned towards me, pointing. "What is he still doing here? Are you two dating now? Did you get married too?"

"You got married? To that guy Byron?"

Serra turned slowly as I hid my smile with my hand. "You need to go," Serra decided, sweeping her hand towards the door. "I've had enough of people with penises. You're done, now. Your services are no longer required."

Hank stared at me with his eyebrows up. I shook my head, dismissing the argument. "You should probably go," I said quietly.

Sighing, Hank pushed himself up from the bed and approached me slowly, breathing in my scent. "I don't think I'm done with you yet," he said quietly, speaking into only my ear. "It's kinda fun being with a woman that has the skill to kill me."

Smiling, I pursed my lips. "I am pretty exciting," I whispered. He leaned in towards my face and kissed me slowly. I felt myself being pushed into his subconscious for the customary three seconds or so and all I saw was the two of us wrapped up in each other, telling me that he really was hooked. "Call me?"

"Definitely. I need some more excitement in my life."

"Oh my God, stop talking, and get the hell out. I have shit to deal with," Serra's voice came over the two of us from across the room.

I stepped to the side to make eye contact with my sister, raising my voice as well. "I'm not the one who was stupid enough to get married!" I countered. "This sounds like _you_ problem, not a _me_ problem."

Immediately, Serra dissolved into a tantrum. "Grace, holy shit, what am I going to do?" she yelled, stomping her foot for effect. She threw herself down onto the bed and lay there, silent.

I glanced at Hank and shook my head. "I'll talk to you later," I said quietly. "We need to figure this out." Hank nodded and smiled, stepping through the threshold of the door and I closed it behind him. Turning back towards my sister, I sighed dramatically. "Alright, stop freaking out."

"Stop freaking out?" she repeated as I sat down next to her, holding the phone book that was in the nightstand drawer next to the Bible. "How can I stop freaking out when I can't actually remember getting married? Was I drugged? What else happened during my nuptials? Who would marry someone that was that drunk?"

I was shaking my head, trying to ignore her, but my sister was loud. "Would you just shut up a minute and I'll try to figure this out?"

She rolled to her stomach again as I flipped to divorce attorneys in the yellow pages. The biggest thing I was worried about was how much it would end up costing. From what I had heard, marriage and divorce happened to be a lucrative business. We just didn't have that kind of cash.

"Here," I said, pointing. "We'll call this guy in the morning and see what he says. For now, I'm going to call the chapel and see what they say."

Serra nodded, trying to stay in control.

I called the chapel that was listed on the marriage certificate and talked to a too-perky older woman who proceeded to explain to me that we would have to get the marriage annulled with the state and that the chapel was not liable for anything that happened.

"It's listed there in your contract," she chirped, clicking her tongue.

"Contract?" I repeated, staring at Serra. "Is that something that we took home with us?"

"Yes, my dear," she replied, clicking her tongue again.

I sighed heavily and rolled my eyes. "Thanks," I said, hanging up the phone, "for nothing."

"What? What does that mean 'with the state'?" Serra asked, sitting up again, pushing her hair out of her face. "I can't deal with this, Gracie. What did I just do?"

"I would rather know how much it's going to cost us, Serra," I said, standing up and pacing around the motel room. "It's not like I have money just laying around. I can't believe you did this."

"You've got that pot from the other night," she mentioned. "That was like, four hundred bucks, wasn't it?" She raised her eyebrows hopefully. "I will give you every cent I make for the next two years. Three years."

"It's not about giving me money, Serra. It's the fact that you let your guard down enough to get so drunk, or drugged, that you can't even remember doing it." I shook my head and licked my lips. "This is _exactly_ why I am on your ass, twenty-four, seven. You're still making such stupid decisions. You are a hunter for fuck's sake. You're gonna get yourself killed." Serra stared at me pleadingly. "You owe me so big," I finally said. "You're getting a real job as soon as we get home. I'm sick of this shit, Sere."

"You got it. Anything you want."

We went to bed that night and Serra fell asleep almost immediately, but I sat up and stared at the wall across the room, smiling occasionally at what our father would have thought about his little perfect Lady Luck getting so drunk that she came home married. Around two that night, I gave in, letting sleep take me. I dreamed about skuzzy bars and a man in a leather jacket with green eyes and woke up completely exhausted the next morning.

"Come on," Serra was saying, tossing a pair of jeans in my general direction. "Let's get this show on the road."

"What?" I asked, sitting up slightly. "We can't just go to the attorney's office. We have to make an appointment."

"So get up. Call."

"You know, you're the one that got married. Maybe you should call." Serra stared at me long enough that I wondered how she could keep her eyes open that long without blinking. "Fine," I finally conceded. "Find me that guy's number. I have to take a shower."

I called with my hair still dripping wet after Serra basically held me down so that I could make the phone call to the divorce attorney. After a brief discussion over the phone as Serra, I took a deep breath and sighed, thanking him for his help. Setting my phone back down on the nightstand, I glanced up at her and shook my head. "We have an appointment in a week. We have to bring Byron and the marriage certificate and three hundred dollars."

"Oh thank God," Serra said, laying back into the pillows.

A week later, we left the attorney's office with a very sullen Byron, still rubbing his ribcage absentmindedly. "I'll always have a special place in my heart for you, my Serendipity," he said sweetly, making me roll my eyes and walk away from them.

Serra wasted no time feeling apologetic or empathetic. "Oh Jesus, Byron, get over it. We spent two nights together and you were stupid enough to get my name tattooed on your body."

He nodded sadly as he bent to kiss her.

Immediately, she backed away and shook her head. "Are you kidding?" she squeaked, making a face. "You go away now. Go far away."

Turning, Byron hung his head and walked back to his truck. "That was harsh, don't you think?" I asked, approaching my sister.

"No," she said, crossing her arms. "I'm out a hundred and fifty bucks and my side itches like crazy."

I shook my head and folded the annulment papers in half, handing them to her. "Keep these safe, please," I said, but then I hesitated. "I don't know, can I trust you with these?"

Serra shook her head. "Are you kidding?" she said for the second time. "You keep them safe. Obviously, I am not to be trusted." She took a couple of steps towards my Toyota and waited for me to open the doors with the keyless entry. As she sat in the passenger seat, she flicked on the radio and turned up the volume as Guns N' Roses came over the speakers. She leaned her head back and nodded to the beat of the music. As I put the car into reverse and headed out of the parking lot, she took a deep breath and said, "We are never talking about this again." Serra opened her eyes and stared at me, watching my reaction carefully. "Never. It never happened."

I suppressed a smile. "Okay," I said, shifting to fifth gear as I merged onto the freeway, headed back to Lawrence for the second time that week.

"Grace," she stated, stern. "It. Didn't. Happen."

I smiled and turned, singing, "Take me down to the paradise city where the grass is green and the girls are pretty! Oh won't you please take me home!"

Serra joined me and we sang together, screaming down the highway.

…

"Oh, it happened," Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "It happened and we heard the entire story."

I laughed as I watched Sam turn to Serra. "I can't believe you were married before," he said, grinning.

"Just like you, honey," she said, handing him the baby and taking off, using Charlotte as a distraction. "It's been fun, Gracie, but I'm leaving before you start telling any more stories that we were never supposed to bring up again."

I laughed again and waved as she jumped down the steps, heading back towards the Small House across the field. The back door clicked shut as Charlotte stretched, her tiny body going rigid momentarily. I turned to stare at my own newborn daughter and still couldn't believe the resemblance between the two, day-apart babies. They both had dark, curly hair, big, dark blue eyes and full, pouty lips. They were close to identical.

"She's really wet," Sam murmured. "I should take her home."

"Why don't you change her here so you can just put her down when you get home. She'll get all cozy again by the time you take her across the field," I said, gesturing to Faith's room upstairs. "You know if you change her at home, she'll just wake up and smell Serra."

Sam nodded and turned towards the steps. "Yeah, alright," he said, heading up the stairs.

Dean stood, still holding onto our daughter and popped his back. "I'm going to take her up and put her down," he said quietly, leaning so that I could kiss her goodnight. He glanced up at Sam, whispering, "Don't wake Everett up. Sometimes he sneaks in there to find Faith."

Sam waved over his shoulder at Dean, signaling that he had heard him. Dean followed him up the steps and I watched, stretching out on the couch.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Dean

"You know, she was young," I said as I walked into my daughter's room and checked for Everett before I turned on the nightlight. He must have stayed in his own room tonight, because he was nowhere to be found. "It's just like she said. It's not like she's still married to the guy." I laid Faith down on the twin bed in the corner of the room to change her diaper and watched my brother for his reaction.

"I know," Sam sighed, laying Charlotte down right next to Faith. "But it's the same thing I've thought before. She's…wild. Free." He glanced and me and shrugged. "I question myself all the time if I'm enough for her."

I made a face as I handed him a diaper. "She's an adult now, Sammy. She's got two kids. I think it's safe to say that she's happy."

"I don't know sometimes," he said, taking off Charlie's wet diaper and rolling it to toss into the trashcan across the room. "Remember when she was on maternity leave with Levi? The shooting practice in the field? She was bored."

"Yeah, that was three years ago," I replied, snapping Faiths light purple footed pajamas back together and grinning at her. "Wasn't it? Tell Uncle Sammy that he's friggin' nuts." I walked across the room to pick up the diaper that I had missed, trying to toss it in as Sam had done and dropped it into the can. I turned to face my brother, crossing my arms across my chest for good measure. "It was a funny story for a laugh, man. We're all home with the babies and we needed a good time."

Sammy stepped towards me with his hands in his pockets, staring at me. "Yeah, I know," he said, chuckling and shaking his head. "My wife is crazy."

"Yeah, she is," I agreed, stepping towards Sam and standing near the window, pulling the curtains shut. I walked up to the bed and stared down at the girls, realizing that they were wearing the same set of purple pajamas. "Um," I said quietly. "Which one is yours?"

"What?" Sam asked, turning towards the bed. "Oh my God," he whispered. "Why are they identical?"

"Seriously," I said, taking another step towards the bed. "Did I put Faith on the right or the left?"

Sammy was shaking his head, staring down at the bed, wide-eyed with me. "I wasn't paying attention. Oh, crap," he whispered, glancing up at me. "This is creepy."

"It really is," I replied, reaching down to touch one of the girls. "Their hair is even curled in the same places." I stared up at Sam. "I honestly can't tell."

"You don't know which one is your daughter?" Sam gaped at me.

I spread out my hands, "You don't either. Besides! I've got three! The other two are blonde! Why did this one have to be all brunette, looking like Serra? She's throwing off the trend."

"Seriously, Dean, how are we going to figure this out?"

"Grace would know," I whispered. "But she might be kinda mad that I don't know what our baby looks like."

"Get Everett. He'd know."

"I'm not going to wake up my three year old to tell me which one is his angel sister." I licked my lips and walked to Sam's other side. One of the girls had opened her eyes and she was watching me closely. "This one," I ventured. "She's watching me. That's Faith, right?"

Sam only lifted his eyebrows.

I reached out and picked her up, bouncing her a few times against my chest. She automatically nestled into my shirt, curling into my warmth. I closed my eyes and sighed. "Okay, hi baby," I said quietly. "This is Faith."

"Are you sure?" Sammy asked, picking up the other baby.

"Yeah," I said, still bouncing the baby I held. "Yeah, this one's mine."

We made our way down the steps and Grace was putting dishes in the sink, laughing to herself. She turned and watched as we walked into the kitchen. Sammy was getting ready to reach for the door and she laughed out loud, unable to hold it any longer.

"What?" I asked, confused. "What did I miss?"

"When Rhett wakes up tomorrow, I'll just send him over, okay?" Sam stared at my wife, waiting for an explanation. "You can just start a collection of my kids."

"This is Faith, isn't it?" he said, deadpan.

Grace nodded, barely holding in her laughter. Immediately, Sam leaned forward, handing Faith off to Grace and then took Charlie from my arms. I shook my head, rubbing my face. "We need to mark one of them, man. I can't tell them apart."

"That's sad, Dean," Grace said, still giggling. "You don't know your own daughter."

"She's a pot roast! She just laid there, sleeping, and Charlie's the one that stared at me with those eyes. Thought she was Faith!" I threw up my hands and walked away. "I'm going to bed."

"Good night, you guys," Sammy said, bundling Charlie close to his chest and shaking his head. "Don't tell Sere about this, will you? She'd never let me hear the end of it."

Grace was still laughing as he closed the door and as she followed me into our bedroom. It felt good to hear it again.

**Thanks so much for reading! This was a fun little break from the longer story arc that I've got going over here at Winchester Ranch. Let me know what you think. Stay tuned for another fun break. Hope to hear from you soon. **

Internetty loves and smoochies,

TheGirlWithTheDinosaurTattoo


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